


Perseverance

by disturbed_girl



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disturbed_girl/pseuds/disturbed_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duo wakes to find himself trapped in the trunk of a car. Struggling to stay above the panic, he must escape from his unknown captors. The threat of reaching his breaking point puts his survival skills to the test as he battles against time. COMPLETE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I do not own Gundam Wing.

Chapter 1

It felt comfortable at first. The darkness was familiar and reassuring. My body was gently being rocked, lulling me into dreams. I didn't fight through the haze, but gave myself to the alluring whispers that hummed softly, promising rest. But where was I? The question slowly formed, a gentle wave rising. The whispers rushed to settle the wave, keeping my mind calm, pulling me further under. My body continued to rock gently. A boat? How- I dragged my mind through the haze, the question splashing out in frustration. With a moan, I opened my eyes, reaching the surface of consciousness.

I blinked.

Nothing.

I couldn't see anything. Something wasn't right. My eyes quickly alerted my other senses. They woke with a startle. What the hell? I could feel my arms and legs pressed tightly together, laying on my side. My muscles ached as I tried to sit up, but I couldn't move my arms. A nauseating sense of panic began to grip my gut. Yanking my arms forward, I found they were tied behind my back. I wiggled my fingers. Tightly tied behind my back.

Trapped.

Sharp and unsteady breaths began to fill the silence and my heart raced as alarms sounded in my head. Trapped. A wave of panic soaked me in sweat and I held my breath, trying to stay above the fear. Don't let it pull you under. Focus. Curled on my side I began counting and slowly released the breath I held.

Okay, where am I?

A small thud jeered my body. I sighed and allowed my head to flop down in defeat. I was in the trunk of a car.

I allowed myself one more moment of pity, you gotta be fucking kidding me, before assessing my predicament. What the hell happened? No. I needed to focus on what I knew. But what did I know? How long was I unconscious? How far had I traveled? The questions sparked and continued to spread, engulfing my mind with hows? and whats?

Focus dammit.

The car seemed to be driving quickly on a smooth road. A highway? I tested my arms to see what had them pinned back. Duck tape. I moved my legs and was relieved to find they weren't bound together. I gently slid them against the floor of the car, searching for any useful items. Nothing. I tilted my head down towards my feet, hoping my eyes would adjust soon. That's when I felt it. Along my neck, something dry was caked over my skin that cracked when I moved my head. My nostrils flared and I focused on the smell. Blood. I released another sigh of self-pity-

Not able to move my hands to investigate the wound, I focused back on my feet. I tapped my foot lightly along the back of the trunk, trying to locate the taillights. A hollow thud told me a plastic cover was hiding them. With resolve, I slowly rocked and twisted my body, forcing myself to flip. Each movement jerked my shoulders and uncomfortably stretched my tied hands. It was a small space and my face was pressed against the roof of the trunk as I maneuvered myself. It felt like I was drowning and gasping for air before the ship went under.

Small and dark, just like your cockpit. I forced back the urge to scream, choking on it as it gripped the edge of my throat. Just like your cockpit. I repeated it, easing the panic back.

With a grunt guiding my final move, I used my legs to push myself over. I finally laid with my back facing the trunk and my head, throbbing from the jarring movements, facing the car's backseat. My breathing grew shaky from the exertion and I began to notice how warm it was. With a huff I scooted my hands back and they fumbled along the trunk, trying to find the access panel to the taillights. Beads of sweat lingered on my forehead and trickled down my neck, mixing with the dry blood. I felt the car continue with its steady speed, maybe 60 mph? As my fingers scrapped at the plastic cover I listened. I hadn't heard any noise since I had awoken, but now that I was closer, maybe I could make something out. Anything.

My focus went back to my fingers as they felt a dip to grab the cover by. I wheezed and tried to blow the bangs clinging to my sweaty face out of my eyes. Slowly my eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark. My index finger carefully hooked the cover and I yanked. I pulled for another minute until finally it gave way and a satisfying click sounded before the plastic cover flipped off. I felt like I had won a game of skill at the fair and smiled at the small victory.

But now I had to turn back over. My muscles tightened at the thought of the difficult manipulation. Clenching my mouth shut to stop from grunting, I began to slowly force my body to awkwardly bend in the small space. Conscious to avoid hitting the backseat with my feet, I finally flung back to the position I had awaken in, but now on the opposite side of the trunk. Sweat gathered uncomfortably on my back and my clothes began to cling to my damp skin. It was so damn hot. I licked my lips, trying to sooth the rough dry cracks forming. I needed water. My eyes slowly closed. The heat and darkness began to swaddle me, beckoning me to sleep.

No. I opened my eyes and bit down on my lip, forcing myself to wake up. I shook my head, fighting back the comfort of sleep. Focus. I tilted my head and listened, but only heard the humming of the tires below and my own shaky breathing echoing in my head. Well, if they hear me now, nothing I can do about it. My foot tapped the exposed taillight and I pulled it back.

1-2-3!

I slammed the heal of my foot into the light and was rewarded by the sound of plastic and glass cracking. Light began to filter into the trunk. My eyes were grateful for it, but that meant no one would notice a broken taillight, at least not until the sun went down. The fresh air reached my nose and I greedily sucked it in. I hadn't noticed how unpleasant the musty carpet and the smell of my own blood and sweat had been. The car continued to drive, the noise had gone unnoticed.

I moved my foot and heard the happy sound of plastic below my boot. I slid it forward along the carpet before scooting my arms back as far as they could reach, my body tightly squishing into a bawl of muscle and sweat. The tips of my fingers blindly reached for one of the shards of plastic. I grimaced as I forced my body to stretch further until I finally grabbed one. I smiled. Another small victory.

I released the tension and felt my muscles deflate as I flipped the piece of plastic between my fingers. Carefully, I gripped it and began to rub the sharp edge against the tape. I tried to keep it steady, but my arms ached from being held back for so long. The constant jarring brought tears to my eyes, or was that sweat? The car shuddered as the tires hit a bump and my body flew into the roof of the trunk, absorbing the hit while the car's suspension failed. I bit my lip as my head landed hard on the floor and I fought to hold onto the plastic shard that had nicked my wrist. Blood began to drip between my fingers.

The car came to a stop and my stomach dropped. My hands were still bound. I could leap from the trunk if they opened it and try to charge through them. I heard the driver and passenger door open and close. Shit. Even if I startled them by jumping out, how far could I get? My muscles were cramped from being trapped and my hands were still tied. Two sets of footsteps plodded on the ground.

I closed my eyes as the trunk began to creak open.


	2. Chapter 2

I tightened my grip on the plastic shard, blood filling the palm of my hands as its sharp edges pierced my fingers. I closed my eyes, evaluating my options. A surprise attack wouldn't weigh in my favor. Not with my hands still tied. I was defenseless. I did not know where I was or who was holding me hostage.

The trunk creaked slowly open, allowing the light and warmth of the sun to slip inside. An escape now would be futile. I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to play the subdued captive. Now, I could only hope to secure information.

The cocking of a gun sounded.

I opened my eyes and saw a Beretta two feet from my head. Laying on my back, I squinted up into the sun, trying to see the figure behind the gun.

"Taillight's busted."

My eyes moved away from the gun held steadily at my head and towards the voice. A young man stood back from the trunk, tapping the broken shards that used to be a taillight.

Shit.

"Don't move." The man holding the gun growled, his voice was husky from age. He stepped in front of the sun, casting his shadow down on me, declaring his dominance. "He is going to tie your feet. You are not going to move." I narrowed my eyes at his command. He held my gaze as the younger man cautiously approached the trunk. "Slowly roll on to your stomach."

There was no way to hide it, I let the shard of plastic slip beneath my fingers as I slowly obeyed, rolling to my side. I was rewarded with the gun pressing into the back of my head. "Redo his hands too." The older man snarled, seeing the fraying tape around my writs. He pressed the gun harder to show his contempt.

I felt my legs carefully being picked up and heard the unsettling sound of duck tape tearing. It was becoming difficult to breathe laying on my stomach with my arms tied back. I stifled a cough, burying my face into the rough carpet. The gun was pressed harder against my head for moving. I bit the inside of my lip, fighting back the urge to growl. Subdued prisoner. Mechanically my legs were bound and neither man spoke. My hands were next and I gritted my teeth while a fresh layer of tape was wrapped around the bloody mess I had made.

Now immobile, I waited for their next move. I turned my head to look up at them and saw the older man still gazing down from behind his gun. He had a smug look on his face, like a cat eyeing his cornered prey. They weren't going to kill me. I tightly held onto that thought. They had taken me for a reason, but his steady and intense gaze made me feel uneasy. This cat liked to play.

"Grab him." The armed man ordered and I felt hands grip the back of my shirt and hoist me up. "Bathroom break." I hung in the air and could see the gun still aimed at me, he was leaving no chance for escape. My feet were placed on the pavement. My knees buckled and I immediately toppled over. My legs had lost circulation and were useless tapped together. "Get him up!" I rolled onto my back before the young man's hand grabbed the front of my shirt and forced me to stand, I cringed slightly at his touch. The cat was beginning to batter the mouse. "There." The one in charge tilted his head towards the treeline. The younger man tugged me forward, my feet dragging along small rocks at the edge of the deserted road.

It felt like I was being marched to my execution. My muscles tightened and my stomach clenched. My pupils dilated as my eyes took in my surrounding. The man with the gun followed behind us. Only a few trees provided cover. I could take the younger man by surprise, slamming my head back. We were nearly by the trees now. Did he have a weapon? I would need one to take out the older man.

We stopped walking and the young man pulled me beside him.

No, they were smart, he wasn't carrying. I examined the younger man as he moved me to face a tree. His eyes were solid green atop a crooked nose, clearly broken once before. Dark maintained eyebrows escaped from underneath a worn baseball cap. Without a word, he cautiously leaned forward. My heart pounded as it raced to send blood to my arms and legs, preparing to fight. Do I charge him now? Use him as a shield? His hands grabbed my waist and carefully he unzipped my pants.

He didn't turn his back, but kept his eyes on my face. I silently stared back, unsure of him.

"Move it." The other barked from behind us. Was this really just a bathroom break? The young man kept his gaze on me. Fuck it. I rolled my eyes and accepted the opportunity to relieve myself. When I finished, he waited a moment before preparing me to be dragged back to the car.

I was forced to balance on unsteady legs, swaying like a weak sapling in the wind, as the young man cleared out the remaining fragments of the taillight from the trunk. When he finished he hefted me back in like a grocery bag. I felt insignificant and weak, but I could use that to my advantage. Nothing I hadn't used before. Resting on my knees I sighed.

The trunk. Again.

My eyes followed a fast movement and I turned to see the older man quickly raise his gun. Shit. The blow to the back of my head sent me crashing to the trunk's floor and left me in darkness.

–

My eyes slowly opened and my mind fumbled through my last memory. I fell? I shook my head, trying to shake off the sleep, and hissed at the stabs of pain it caused. The ringing in my ears confirmed it. The asshole had knocked me out. I laid my head delicately down on the trunk's floor. The rough carpet kissed my cheeks with light scratches. I slowly breathed and fought to keep my body still, trying to ease the painful throbbing. It felt like a game of racquetball in my head. How long had I been out? Who were they? The thoughts buzzed through my head, jumping and skipping. I couldn't focus on the questions, the brewing migraine raged war against them. I tried to let the swaying of the car relax me, but the road was not as smooth as before. The car jerked down as it hit a bump and I flew up and cringed. What goes up, must come down. With my arms tied I couldn't protect my head and my whole body jarred with the impact. My vision blurred. My last thought was how annoying this was becoming.

–

I woke with a shiver and released a shaky sigh, I was still in the trunk. I gritted my teeth, greeting the headache that would be with me for awhile. The restriction around my hands felt tighter and my legs were beginning to cramp.

Out.

I needed to get out. The darkness began to press down on me. My breathing became hitched as it threatened to choke me. My control was beginning to crack. Stop. I squeezed my eyes closed and focused on the movement of the car. I began to hum along with the sound of the tires below my head, calming my fraying nerves. Focus on facts. I forced my mind to work. The temperature had dropped. The sun must have gone down. My body jerked lightly, the road was not smooth. What else did I know? It was nighttime. Two men had me, or at least last I knew. My fingers flicked and I felt a small shard of glass gripped between them. I stopped humming. I had snagged it when they pulled me out of the trunk, grabbing it when I fell to the ground. A dear forgotten friend. I grinned cockily and held it as best I could and began the tedious process of sawing through the tape. The action gave me comfort and I continued to control my emotions by analyzing what I knew.

They were both military. Clean shaven, short hair, steady eyes and hands. They had a standard military issued gun. They were wearing civilian clothes. The older man was clearly in charge. He had a strong jawline and would be attractive except for the large round nose below his piercing hollow eyes. I noted the car when they let me out, it was an older vehicle. I grumbled at the thought. There would not be a release cable in the trunk, not for this car. That escape plan was out. I focused on the loosening tape that bound my hands. The shard became difficult to grasp as blood slowly trickled down my fingers, but I was almost through.

When the tape tore my arms rose, painfully greeting their freedom. Their circulation had been cut off, and now they began to cramp. I hissed at the muscle spasms. It felt like screws twisting and tightening underneath my skin. I forced my arms to fumble in the dark to reach my legs. I looked down and my head rang in protest from the sudden movement. I cursed at myself. I would not pass out. Concussion or not. I raised my legs, trying to get my blood flowing, and took shallow slow breaths. Come on dammit. I was becoming irritated with myself as I fought to stay conscious.

When I seemed stable, I curled in an awkward position and began to cut the tape around my feet. The glass slipped as the car stopped. Shit. I quickly fumbled for it and finished cutting. I gripped the shard, my only weapon, and heard two car doors open. So there still were two of them. I would force the trunk open as soon as it was unlocked. Hopefully it would startle them enough for me to charge passed. I listened to muffled talking and held my breath. Their footsteps continued, away from the car.

Now.

I needed to act now. I swung my free legs to face the backseat of the car and kicked! I slammed into it a second time and the seat folded forward. My drawbridge to freedom. I pulled myself out of the trunk and kept low, staying below the windows. My legs ached but I forced them to move. Peering over the passenger window I didn't see anyone. We were parked, trees surrounding us. I quickly reached my hands under the seats, praying for anything that could be used as a weapon. For fuck's sake! Nothing.

Bracing myself, I glanced out of the window one more time. My heart pounded so furiously it shook my chest. I licked my lips, causing them to sting in anger. Here goes. My hand grasped the doorknob and I quickly opened it. I leaped from the car like a racehorse behind an open gate. I forced my legs to run. They fumbled awkwardly, but I focused on each step, commanding them to move. Every step brought me closer to escape. Get into the woods. My mind begged my legs to hurry. My teeth clenched as the jarring strides stirred my migraine. The slumbering dragon was awake and it roared in anger.

I hit the ground hard, skidding across the gravel and dirt. I didn't even hear him before I was tackled from the side. His arms tightly wrapped around me while we flew to the ground. I shielded the blow for him, layers of my skin peeling off as his weight pressed me across the gravel. I snarled and fought against him. When I looked up I saw it was the younger man laying across me.

"Get the fuck off!" I roared. His eyes widened slightly, it was the first time I had spoken. I took advantage of his surprise and rammed my elbow into his gut and squirmed out of his weakened grip. Panting, I stood and spread my legs, bracing myself as the young man lunged forward. I side stepped and brought my elbow down on his back, flattening him to the ground. I turned to run but he grabbed my ankle, tripping me. My arms blocked my face from striking the ground as I fell. I cursed and kicked as he climbed on top of me. He easily had an extra forty pounds over my small frame.

"Get the hell off!" I growled as I bucked up against him, trying to force him off. His breathing was ragged but he remained silent. I narrowed my eyes and slammed my forehead into his nose. Blood gushed onto my neck as he jerked back. Now his nose would have one more bump, I thought pleasantly and pulled away. The woods, have to-

"Enough."

I lowered my head, my eyes leaving the sight of the woods, as I felt a gun pressed to the back of my head. I could hear the leaves rustle in the wind, mocking me. So close. The older man had been enjoying the show up until now. His one hand tugged me up off of the ground while his other aimed that damn gun at me. I growled and it made the fresh scrapes across the one side of my face sting. The young man stood up, holding his nose, blood dripping down the front of his shirt. The older man motioned his head towards the car. "Move."

Fuck that. I charged him, hoping to surprise him with my boldness while a gun was aimed at me. He was quicker than my bruised, bloody, cramped, and dehydrated body could handle. His one arm tightly wrapped around me and he effortlessly hoisted my feet off of the ground. He held me against his chest and began to walk towards the car. I felt like a helpless child being carried off for punishment. The fear barreled through me. It filled my lungs, making it hard to breathe, and then jolted through my arms and legs.

"No! Fuck you!" I squirmed, losing it. I was not going back in the trunk. I wouldn't let them. I couldn't. My head jerked back but did nothing to his solid chest. I tried to pull my arms free, but he held on tight. "Let go!" He was too strong. I could feel myself trembling in panic. I turned my head and like a wild animal, I bit down on his forearm. He cursed and flung me against the car. My body slumped down to the ground as my head whacked the car's hubcap.

"Hold him." The words came out harshly and the young man stepped forward as I crawled back, trying to use the tire as leverage to stand. His bloody hands gripped my shoulders and held me down. I shook my head, trying to push passed the waves of dizziness. The older man came back into my range of sight, towering above me.

"No. You son-of-a-bitch!" I squirmed and cursed as he jabbed a needle into my shoulder. "Dammit!" I kicked one last time and continued to mumble curses as my vision tunneled.

–

"How much did you give him?" The question slowly echoed in my head, rolling back and forth, until it broke into pieces that I couldn't put together. The words bounced and mixed with the response. "Not that much." I moaned and tried to lift my head, but it felt like a block of wood, hollow and heavy. "He's dehydrated, it was too much." It felt like finger nails had dragged down the inside of my throat. "Give him some water then." Something rubbed against my lips, then something wet trickled across my cheeks and chin. What was that underneath me? The thought felt like a loud bang inside of my head. Warmth. I was laying on someone? Another bang rattled inside my head. My lips slowly parted and filled with something. I coughed and my throat tightened. I felt the bile slowly lurching its way up and I coughed once more to release it. "Dammit!" I felt hands pushing me away, and for some reason I wanted to smile.


	3. Chapter 3

I knew I was still alive because of the headache. I didn't bother to open my eyes. I could feel the darkness encasing me and I enjoyed it a moment longer, shutting out the pain that was waiting to greet me. I hated drugs. They lingered, lazily slithering in my jumbled mind. Another minute passed before I sighed and cracked my eyes open. My throat burned, my arms and legs ached, my head throbbed, and I felt nauseous. I wanted to shut it out again, but I couldn't. I needed to get out of this. The car began to jar, shuttering and crashing down as it drove on a rough surface. I was flung back and forth, slamming against the trunk's floor and hood. I felt like a marble in a pinball machine. I was fully awake now and I had had enough. With my back against the floor I pressed my feet up on the roof of the trunk, stopping myself from bouncing with each bump.

"Let me out!" I roared with a rough voice and began to kick. Another large bump sent the car up and then down with a thud. I hoarsely screamed out in frustration. I would not be stuck back here any longer. I continued to pound my feet and shouted with each kick. "Get me"-thud-"the fuck"-thud-"out of"-thud-"HERE!" I began to pant as my feet continued to thud, but with less force. The little amount of energy I had was already gone. Like a balloon deflating, it slowly left me. I chastised myself. Wasting my energy to throw a tantrum was not going to get me out. I gave one more solid kick in defiance before closing my eyes. The endless bumps ceased and I felt small thuds below my head. Rocks? The tires were kicking something up. Gravel road?

I opened my eyes. It was dark, of course, but too dark. Was it night? I rolled my head to the side to look at the taillight I had busted. My eyes narrowed. There was no hole. I looked down towards the other end and didn't see rays of light flickering in. I inched my tied feet forward and tapped, solid. I rolled to my side and brushed my cheek against the carpet. The soft material gently rubbed back. My tired mind began to slowly put the new information together. I smiled. I was in a new trunk.  
–  
Not only was I in a new trunk, but my hands were no longer taped together. Instead they were handcuffed behind my back. Apparently they thought the tape wasn't doing a good enough job. A wide smile cracked my dried lips. Little did they know- I arched my head back and my fingers fought to grab hold of my braid. When I finally held it, I felt for the rubber-band. Slowly I slid out a bobby pin that was nestled inside of the hair-tie. My fingers gripped it like my life depended on it, and maybe it did.

I straightened the one end of the pin as best I could and then lowered it to the handcuffs. The right side of my body felt like it was on fire. My skin was bruised and scratched from being slammed into the pavement. The sound of rocks hitting the underside of the car continued. My thumb rubbed the handcuffs, trying to find the small hole to insert the pin. The movement of the car and the few bumps that lifted me made it a difficult task. When I finally felt the hole I gently eased the the pin inside and maneuvered it against the handcuff's housing and turned it.

Nothing.

I steadied my breathing and sighed, trying to relax and focus. I forced my awkwardly stretched fingers to continue. I applied more pressure until the bar on the double lock released. A satisfying click filled the trunk. Duo, you are too good. I applauded myself while unlatching the cuffs. My wrists were tender and I tried to ignore the burning sensation. My skin had been rubbed raw from the tape and the cuffs had left deep pressure marks.

With my hands free, it took only a few minutes to remove the tape across my ankles. I examined the back of my head next, my fingers gently probing for a bloody wound. I was surprised to feel a large bandage. So they did want me alive. More rocks bumped the belly of the car and a new sound drifted inside of my tomb. The pattering of rain. If we were on a gravel road, plus the rain, then there would be no better opportunity for me to escape. The car would have to travel slower.

My hands blindly fumbled along the back of the trunk, like a drunk man trying to grasp an empty bottle. When I found the lip to the panel cover I forced it off. With a silent prayer, my hands slid across the trunk's exposed door. I nearly cried when they grazed the cable. Thank you. My shoulders slumped as relief relaxed my muscles for the first time in hours. This car had a trunk release cable running from a lever in the driver's side door to the trunk. With one good tug I would be out. The thought of freedom had my muscles tingling and my head screaming to hurry. The trunk's solitude and blinding darkness were choking me and I struggled to breathe. I would break if I didn't escape this time.

I closed my eyes and tugged on the cable. My stomach rose as I waited. Would it work? It had to work. I had to get out! I released the air I had been holding when a click sounded. I quickly grabbed the trunk to keep it from flying up, and lifted it slightly to peer out. The cool air and smell of rain rushed to greet me and stroked my raw cheeks. I was sure a bruise graced the side of my face from being tackled. The car was still traveling rather quickly and my stomach began to rise in anticipation. I squinted my eyes, focusing on the light given off by the taillights. It was a gravel road. That would help cushion the fall. I nearly laughed at my attempt of comfort. This was going to hurt like hell, regardless. I could see flashes of rain in the eerie red brake lights. I couldn't make out the surrounding area. I could only hope we weren't in the middle of nowhere. If that were the case, I would have to rely on the dark night to hide me.

I could feel the car slow as it began to take a turn. Now! I took one last gulp of air before flinging the trunk open. My hands tightly gripped the backside while the car swerved as the driver looked out his review mirror. I grunted, committing to the escape, and threw myself out. It was only a few feet, but I may as well have been leaping from my Gundam. I brought my chin into my chest and pulled my arms and legs in, bracing for the inevitable impact. My shoulder slammed into the gravel. It felt like fire ripping through me. I rolled with the fall and struggled to keep my arms and legs tucked in as I skidded across the road. When I stopped rolling I fought to breathe. I was still coughing when I crawled to my knees and forced myself to stand. My legs weren't broken.

Run!

I had to get off of the road. To the right of me was a mountain. I turned and focused to my left and saw a line of trees, unwelcoming tall dark figures. I darted towards them, ignoring their disapproving glares, and heard the car traveling across the gravel behind me. The fear of being caught had me flinging my body forward, a desperate gazelle evading the lion. In the dark I couldn't see the small ditch separating the road from the tree line and cursed as I slid down the bank. The cold muddy water jumped to greet me and proved that it had been raining awhile. I realized that my shoulder was out of its socket when I tried to pull myself up. I quickly used my other arm to heave my soaked and battered body out. Crawling, I hesitated only a moment before forcing myself to stand. I could hear car doors, they weren't far behind. I blindly ran in the dark, pressing my way through bushes and tripping over limbs.

I embraced the adrenaline that pushed me, ignoring the aches and pains. My injuries were a mystery as I pressed on. Lights began to flicker, jutting across the dark landscape. Shit. I dove behind a tree, taking cover. My lungs fought for air as I tried to hold my breath. The clouds opened and rain poured down. Perfect. I shivered and used the back of my hand to wipe my dripping bangs from my eyes, smearing mud across my forehead. I watched the lights dance across the darkness in a furious waltz. Well, at least the downpour would make for poor visibility.

I needed a plan. I couldn't waste the adrenaline. I tilted my head back against the tree and listened. I couldn't hear them yet, they were still far enough behind. My ears picked up another sound. It sounded like a train rushing by. I listened closely. Water, I was near a river. I pushed myself off of the tree and trotted towards the distant sound. I began to feel the chill of my soaking torn clothes and shivered again. At least I wasn't feeling anything else...yet. Branches snapping to the right of me forced me into a sprint towards the sound of the river. When the light caught me I dove to the ground, twigs jabbing and yelling at me for my rude intrusion. I gasped when my elbow tucked into my side. Broken rib? I pulled myself forward, staying low to the ground. The light hovered above and the sound of branches snapping alerted my sense of fight-or-flight.

River, where was the river? I closed my eyes and focused on the sound. It couldn't be much further. I stood and began to sprint. The light raced across me and I could hear shouting. Run dammit, run! I begged my legs to move faster. The first shot fired. I zigzagged, trying to avoid the next, but it struck my left arm. I hissed, but ignored it. Almost there, I could hear the water smashing against the shore. Another shot shook the night. I tripped on some lose rocks and crashed down onto my knees. The sound of my kneecaps slamming against the rocks made me cringe. As I looked down to force my legs to stand I could barley make out white swirls rushing past. The river, I made it. The rain had made the river angry and it lashed out as it rushed by. But how deep was it? The sound of approaching feet left me little time to decide. The river would either take me away or kill me. The footsteps behind would take me prisoner or kill me.

I sucked in one huge breath and jumped.


	4. Chapter 4

I forced the water to part as I crashed through it. It grabbed me in anger and pulled me under, trapping me in its hydraulic currents. I was stuck in a washing machine, spinning round and round, the whitewater beating me down into the bottom of the river. My torn clothes did little to shield me from the river rocks that nipped at me. I fought back the panic as my lungs demanded air, but instead began to fill with water. I was choking as the river pushed and pulled. It felt like a boxing match and I begged for the bell to end it. My hands ran across the river floor and I sought refuge below the turbulence. I let the water pull me further downstream until I could finally escape and swim to the surface.

My arms flailed when I broke through, and I coughed and spat out the vulgar water that had violated me. But the river was not done with me yet. I flipped onto my back so that my legs floated downstream to protect myself from boulders. I was still fighting to breathe when my foot brushed passed a tree limb submerged in the river. The current quickly pushed my body forward, pinning my chest beneath the limb. Waves pummeled my face, attacking me with an overwhelming furry. I could only use one arm to push against the limb, the other limply hung as I tried to wedge myself free. The current pushed back, a brutal tug of war for my life.

I was a Gundam pilot, I would not drown dammit!

I took a deep breath and submerged, working with the current instead of fighting it. I pushed up on the limb, allowing the current to tug me down, until finally I was spinning free from the branch. The river rushed me forward, bobbing me up and down like a buoy. I was helpless as it thrashed me about and I struggled to keep my head above it. I had nothing left in me to fight. It would be so easy to give up, let it take me. It swirled around me in agreement, splashing into my face. I coughed and more water rushed to fill my open mouth. The coughs rattled my rib cage and I gasped at the severe pain. Definitely a broken rib. Another current twisted me around and pulled me under. Too tired. I closed my eyes, my head bowing to the waves in surrender.

But the river wanted to play more. My feet slammed into a boulder and my head shot up before my body was pressed against it. I tried to push my way around, and while kicking, my feet grazed the river's floor. A ray of joy broke through my heavy clouds. It was shallow enough to stand. I stood with my back pressed against the boulder, stopping the rushing water from taking me. The current swirled around my feet in a panic to keep me, like a child losing it's favorite toy. With heavy slow steps I stumbled to the edge of the river where a wall of mud stood between me and safety. I whimpered. I would have to attempt the climb with one arm. I searched for roots and limbs to help hoist myself up and was relieved to find a few. Chunks of earth fell down on me as I tugged my way up, like a mad man clawing out of his grave. My feet slipped and I fell back a few times before my hand finally gripped the edge, and with all my strength I screamed as I pulled myself up and over, the river howling in anger at my escape.

I curled into a ball as my heart raced and I fought to catch my breath. It was still raining and I could feel myself slowly sinking into the mud with each passing moment. I couldn't move, hell I couldn't even breathe. Shivering, I pulled my legs closer to my chest and closed my eyes. I stayed there, burying my face into my shoulder. Minutes passed and my breathing finally slowed and was becoming shallow as I began to slip into unconsciousness.

I have to get out of the trunk. Why am I wet? My mind drifted from the trunk to my present state, leaving me confused. Where was I? It was too cold. I felt numb, except for my arm. Why did it hurt so much? I slowly raised my hand to investigate the arm shielding my face from the rain. A jolt of pain had me gasping as my hand grabbed the forgotten bullet wound. Shit. The pain ripped the blanket of haze off and I sat up, huddling in the puddle that had formed around me. The battle against hypothermia was beginning. I didn't want to move. I just wanted to sleep. I sighed, knowing what I had to do. I lifted my hand to the wound, pausing for a moment before I held my breath and pressed down. A strangled scream ripped through me. It felt like a sledgehammer pounding red hot iron into my bone.

I moaned and forced myself to stand. I would die if I didn't keep moving. My shoulder was still dislocated and my left arm hung limply. The injury would only get worse if I didn't fix it now. With the bullet wound in the same arm, it would be more difficult to set. My head lowered as I felt the world working against me. I was a pinata dancing on a string, entertaining everyone while taking one hit after another.

With a grimace I raised both arms and pointed them out from my side. Slowly I rotated them upwards and gasped. With my eyes squeezed shut and my face in a scowl, I continued to slowly move my arms up. It felt like a ravenous animal was latched onto my arm, trying to rip it from my body. I shouted in determination and finally raised it above my head. I felt my shoulder slip into place and I hissed out the air I was holding. I slowly lowered my arms to my side and felt immediate relief from the pain, but it still ached. The joint was definitely swollen.

Now it was time to look at the bullet wound. I carefully pulled back my muddy shirtsleeve. The bleeding was minimal, but still enough to worry me. I tried to focus on my surroundings and my eyes made out the shape of a fallen tree in the dark night. I shuffled over to it and plopped down on it. My one hand blindly searched the damp decaying wood. When I felt soft moss, I gently pulled it off and peeled back my shirt. I placed the moss on the wound, trembling at the touch, and then gently pressed my shirt back over it. Satisfied the bleeding would stop, I slowly rose from the log. My legs protested and my knees wobbled, but I managed to stand and forced myself to walk. I had to keep moving. I felt like a zombie stumbling through the woods, my left arm limply hanging and my feet dragging tiredly through the mud. A moan even escaped every few steps.

My teeth chattered and I shivered uncontrollably while I walked along the edge of the river. A fire would be heaven. But the rain would make that a difficult task, and I didn't know how far the river had taken me. I was sure the two men wouldn't have given up on me yet. I had to decide if I should seek shelter in the woods, or try to find civilization. Shelter in the woods meant it would be less likely they would find me. But I also had to dress my wounds. I needed a lot more than the woods could provide. Civilization meant my chances of getting captured increased. My heavy feet tripped over a rock and I crashed down onto the earth. I cried out and fought back the tears as my arm hit the ground. Rolling to my side I cradled it and clenched my jaw while waiting for the wave of pain to settle. I couldn't stay out here. I needed help. Following the river downstream was my best option. I pulled myself up and didn't bother to wipe off the fresh layer of mud covering me from the neck down. If I survived this, I was going to throw myself one hell of a pity party.

–

My feet finally began to shuffle on a narrow path along the river. It was the first sign of civilization. My salvation was near and as my feet greeted the path I should have heard a choir rejoicing. Instead my feet continued to mechanically march onward and I heard the river beckoning me. It constantly cursed me with its rushing waters, angry that I escaped it. I didn't know how long I had been walking. I think I even dozed off at some point.

After a long performance, the rain retreated behind the clouds, the thunder applauding it. My soaked and aching body was grateful, but I knew it was only the intermission. The rain's dark skies made it difficult to guess what time it was, but I figured the sun still had a few more hours of sleep. My head swayed with each heavy step and my ponytail lightly bounced. Why had I agreed to this recon mission? When I finished Professor G was going to get an ear full. Recon? My feet paused as my mind fought to find the right information. I waited as it shuffled through my memory like a deck of cards. I wasn't on a reconnaissance. Certain cards were removed from my memory deck and laid out for me. I had escaped from that damn trunk. I continued my slow walk, frightened by my wavering mental stability. I needed to do something.

"A shower." I smiled as I said it and imagined the hot strong water pelting me and relaxing my muscles. "A sandwich. Ham." My stomach was empty. I wasn't even sure when I had last ate. I was passed being hungry and my stomach accepted its hollowness. "A coke." I continued to list the things I wanted, staying awake. "A bed." I sighed and could feel the soft comforter wrapping around me. It was odd, from childhood until now, I was still craving the same basic things. I looked down at my tattered filthy clothes and worn shoes and laughed cynically. Some things just didn't change.

The path veered away from the river. Finally. Something had to be nearby. My ears rejoiced as I said goodbye to the howling river and welcomed the silence of the wooded path. I began to softly hum, the tune matching the swaying of my body. I stopped when a new sound whispered in my ears. It sounded like the river, but it wasn't. I had left that sound behind. I focused, mentally willing my ears to hear more. There it was again. A low rumble. I picked up my pace and would have begun to run if I were able. It was the sound of an engine. A large one, maybe a truck?

Half a painful mile later, the army of trees halted and held their defense line against a small brick building. The building was surrounded by pavement with three large transporting trucks and three older vehicles parked. The sounds of motors humming continued in the distance. A highway must be nearby. This must be a truck stop. I stood sheltered behind the trees, observing the building and scanning the surrounding area. A gravel road met the parking lot and continued north, breaking a path between the trees. The rest stop was nearly hidden, like a secret haven for the weary driver. I had dealt with a few drivers in the past to help transport Deathsythe. Overall I liked the few I had met. There were the silent ones who drove to be alone. But there were also the lonely ones, who drove because they were looking for something. I leaned against a tree, not able to stand. There was no movement around the perimeter, and the car I had been held in was not there.

I sighed. I didn't have much of a choice. My battered body was shutting down and I would soon crawl to a halt like a car without gas. Even my mind was sputtering and on the verge of breaking down. I looked at my filthy clothes and felt my hair loosely hanging above my shoulders. There was nothing that could be done about my appearance. My eyes cast down at a branch that laid broken below my supporting tree. I slowly bent down, my ribs begging me to stop, and lifted the branch up. Leaning on the tree, I raised my knee and snapped the branch over it. It cracked and I now held two small sticks in my hands. I tested the fresh ends with my fingertip. They had a nice edge that would inflict damage if enough pressure was applied. I carefully slid one of the dagger sized sticks underneath my waistband, my belt holding it in place. The other I concealed in my hand as best I could. Feeling a little safer, I pressed off the strong tree. I staggered a moment and nearly fell before my good arm implored the tree to brace me once again. I waited for the spinning to stop before pressing away from the tree a second time, leaving the shelter of the woods. I could feel the trees saluting me as I marched on.

As I reached the heavy wooden door the rain returned for act two and blasted me as if to say don't go. It argued with rumbling thunder as my hand grabbed the doorknob. My fingers tightened their grasp on what now felt like a desperately lacking weapon. I inhaled as deep as my broken rib allowed and pulled the door open.


	5. Chapter 5

The warmth inside ran to greet me, but paused as it reached the chill surrounding me. Confused, it darted about until it finally broke through. I could feel it kiss my chapped and bruised cheeks. My eyes must have been large as they adjusted to the lights and quickly took in my surroundings. Eight round wooden tables with scattered bar stools separated me from a long bar against the back wall. Behind the bar the liquor was displayed below a rusting metal sign with the letters JOHNNY'S in chipped paint. A worn pool table was to my left with a few abandoned balls waiting to be racked up.

Six sets of eyes watched me. I forced my tired mind to examine each of them. Four out of the six were likely carrying. I noted their weight and height, but I was too tired to focus on anything else I should ascertain. Instead, I quickly noticed the few choice weapons I could grab. To my left the pool balls and cues. In front of me the bar stools. My right side made me nervous, just the restroom and a jukebox with no escape path.

I numbly stood for a minute, making my observations. I felt sluggish as the cold and loss of blood made it difficult to function. I stepped towards the left, my feet carefully treading on the cracked green tile. My boots left an intrusive trail of mud.

"What in the hell happened to you?" The man standing behind the bar inquired as I pressed against the pool table. All eyes examined me while I carefully palmed one of the balls with my free hand, the other holding the sharp stick.

"S-s-sorry." I sighed at the stutters escaping between my chattering teeth. I forced a smile and hoped it wasn't as pathetic as it felt. "Car prob-b-lems." The rain made for a valid excuse, and since I was covered in mud, it looked like I might have been fighting to free a trapped car. I hoped the mud caked all over me hid most of my extensive injuries. I began to feel each as the warmth slowly woke them. They moaned and complained and I wished they would retreat back to their deep slumber.

I must have been standing quietly for a moment, a fragile white porcelain statue, and was surprised to see the bartender now just a few steps away. Shit. I had to stay focused. He stopped when I looked up at him. I tried to hide my dazed look with a warm smile. "Phone?" Was all I could manage as the room began to tilt. His eyes narrowed beneath his red baseball cap and I wondered if it was out of irritation or concern.

"I think you need more than a phone son." He said and carefully took one step towards me. I shuffled my feet back and gratefully gripped the pool table to stop from falling. I stifled a gasp as my ribs bumped against the table's edge. The lights in my mind were turning off one by one. I was shutting down. The green tile began to slither under my feet and I clung to the table as a wave of nausea tried to pull me under. No, I was so close. Not now.

I felt hands grab my shoulders and I released a small cry of pain. My shoulder was still tender from the dislocation, and the bullet wound was reeking havoc on my nerves. I raised the hand that gripped the pool ball in defense, but another hand quickly grabbed my arm as I swung. I turned to see one of the patrons standing behind me. My vision was beginning to tunnel as the lights continued to go out. I had let another one sneak up on me.

Trapped.

No. It was becoming dark like the trunk. I would not go back in the trunk. A stampede of panic trampled me. I had to get away. "NO!" the word ripped through me. I blocked everything, the pain, the nausea, and fought to break free from the hands forcing me back into the trunk.

"Easy boy, easy." The words rose over the sound of feet shuffling against the floor. Two sets of hands fumbled to hold me still. Escape. I had to escape. One of the hands slid down my mud covered arm and stopped at the bullet wound. This time I screamed. My arm was on fire as daggers twisted up and down it. I fought to breathe as a wave of dizziness threatened to drown me. My arms and legs struggled to keep above it, and I heard words floating passed.

"Hold-" "Stop-" "Safe-"

The last word hung above me and I fought to reach it before I went under.

–

I climbed through the darkness. My hands pulled me to the edge and I fought to stay above the black pool of water lapping below. My shouts for help were silenced as I hung helpless. Muffled voices trickled down from above. "He's moving again." My grip was slipping and I fought to hang on. The dark waters sighed with an irritated splash, hungry to take me back. "Keep him still." I kicked my feet, searching for any footing to escape the darkness. I didn't want to go back. "I need a fresh towel." The black water grabbed my foot and slowly began to tug. "Hang in there kid." I whimpered as my fingers began to slip and the dark waters swallowed me.

–

A dull thud vibrated through my temples and traveled down my neck. It continued in a constant loop, gaining momentum each turn. My split lip grimaced and then my scratched cheek stung in protest. I didn't dare open my eyes, knowing it would feel like crashing through a brick wall. "Do we call the cops?" A muffled voice filled my dull ears. "Hell no. You want them in here?" Another more urgent voice pushed passed the ringing in my ears. "No. I got an expired license." I tried to follow the conversation, but the thudding in my head and the ringing in my ears was like trying to hear over a plane's roaring jet. If I couldn't rely on my sense of hearing- I slowly cracked my eyes open. It was like the sun was trying to squeeze through the tiny slits of my eyelids. I forced passed the brightness and continued to open them. I moaned as I felt my body slam into the wall of pain.

"He's waking up."

Who's waking up? My eyes tried to focus on the movement above. The black circle began to take shape and a blurry face came into view. I couldn't make out any features, but I knew it was a male staring down at me. "Welcome back." Back? From where? Where was I? My palm pressed down on a cold smooth surface. I closed my eyes and tilted my head slightly and found it cradled in something soft. "I think he is going under again." I sighed at the annoying commentator and struggled to prove him wrong. I furrowed my brow, focusing on staying awake, but that proved to be a painful movement and the thudding in my head turned into a crashing of cymbals. I was forced to let go to escape the jarring sound.

–

It felt like I was buried under a sand dune. I slowly tried to pull my way out and it fought back, pushing against each movement. I tried to shout for help but the sand rushed to fill my mouth and drown me. Annoyed, I thrust my arms forward and dug deep, forcing myself to rise from the suffocating sand. When I finally broke through I gasped for air and felt my dry throat cough. I slowly opened my eyes to see what island it felt like I had washed up on. A florescent light beamed down on me. I moved to sit up to figure out where I was, but I couldn't. I had no strength. I felt like a towel that had gone through the wringer without a single drop of water left.

"Hello."

My eyes darted towards the voice while my hands searched for a weapon to grasp. They felt nothing but smooth cold metal. An older man watched me from a chair seated a few yards back from me. I guessed the hair hidden under his red baseball cap was the same color as his graying groomed beard. His arms were crossed over his chest and covered a fading navy blue shirt with a logo I did not recognize. He was not one of the men who had forced me into the trunk, but my muscles would not relax, because that did not mean he was not working with them.

"You've been out for a good two hours." He slowly uncrossed his arms. "I would say you could rest for another five by the looks of ya." He purposefully kept his hands away from his sides. Allowing me to see he was not reaching for anything. The sharp pain coursing down my left arm forced me to flinch, but I fought to keep my eyes focused on him. He held my gaze as he stood still. I was not safe laying on my back. I needed a better position to defend myself. Slowly, I pulled my legs towards me, my feet laying flat on the table as my knees pointed up in the air. I felt a blanket slid down my legs and rest on my stomach. My hand tugged on the blanket, exposing my legs. Now I could at least give someone a proper kick if they came from that end. My legs were upset to have the warmth of the blanket taken and an army of goosebumps covered them. Damn it was cold. Where were my pants?

My ears still felt like they were filled with sand, but I tried to listen for others. My eyes continued to focus on the older man as I raised my head to sit up. A stabbing pain made me fall back in defeat. The pain jarred my memory. Broken rib.

"I'd try to stay still." My vision blurred but I kept my eyes in his direction. His voice was even and reflected no emotion. Irritation, concern, neither were evident. My focus came back and he slowly began to stand. He raised his hands to assure me he was not moving towards me. He pointed to his left, but I didn't dare move my eyes from him. His movements were slow and with a purpose. His demeanor was odd. It was not authoritative like a prison guard. I watched him grab a glass. His body language was strong though. He placed the glass under a faucet and I could see water fill it. My muffled ears could not hear the water, and it worried me to have one of my senses dulled.

Where was I? As I watched him I began to take in my surroundings. Beside the large sink the man stood in front of a metal cabinet and an array of pots and pans hung from a line traveling across the back wall. I was in a kitchen. The metal surface I felt below my hands must be a table. If this was a kitchen, then—my eyes quickly scanned the other side of the room, leaving the man for moment, as I searched for knives or other sharp objects.

Nothing.

Aggravated, I faced the man again as he stepped away from the sink with a glass in hand.

"I imagine you need this." He raised the glass and I raised my eyebrows. I did not want him to come towards me. My dry throat flared and disagreed with me at the sight of water. He took one step forward and I narrowed my eyes, my first warning to stay back. He was smart and stopped. Clearly he was used to cornered animals and did not want to tango with desperation. A door across from me swung open on its hinges and a tall thin man entered. I used the distraction and swiftly swung my legs over the table and launched myself towards the opposite side of the room, away from the men. I snagged a greased filled frying pan out of a tub. Its weight gave me some comfort, but I struggled to hold it while the world slowly danced around me. The man who just entered gawked at me, but neither he nor the other moved.

The one with the hat and beard raised his hands, still holding the glass. "My name is Joe." He looked at the man standing beside him and motioned for him to follow his example. Giving their names was supposed to help relax me. It didn't.

The taller man was not as calm as Joe. His actions were apprehensive. He quickly raised his arms. "Um" he hesitated "Philip." I noted the bruise forming under his left eye. He wore a plain white shirt and jeans that were a size too large and faded in the knees. He was a head taller than the other man, but weighed less. They were both in their mid-fifties. Philip glanced at Joe, silently asking him what now?

I fought to stay standing as the dance picked up its tempo and spun quickly around me. I clung to the frying pan, holding it in front of me. Pathetic.

"You came in here last night." Joe kept his eyes on me with his hands raised. "Do you remember?" Here? Where was here? I fought to think but it was hard to focus as the world spun. "You are about to faint." My legs were shaking and I fumbled back, pressing against a dirty bin of dishes. "I don't want you to fall and reopen your wound." Joe motioned with his one hand to my arm. Yes, I had been shot. The pan was becoming too heavy. "You lost too much blood. You can't lose anymore." I struggled to keep my eyes on them as they faded in and out. "I am going to take a step towards you." I tightened my slipping grip on the pan.

The door swung open again and a younger man entered the standoff. "Joe, a car-" he stopped when he saw the two men with their arms raised and looked towards me. Surprised, he stood silent until an amused smile began to form on his lips. I wasn't holding the men up with a gun, but with a frying pan. His eyes stayed on mine as he continued to speak with Joe. "A car pulled in, an older guy and a young one got out and are walking around." I tried to step back further but my back was pressed against the counter of dirty dishes. My panic was evident as I hefted the pan back up, forcing my arms to continue to hold it.

"Liam, go man the bar. Offer them a drink if they come in." Joe continued to watch me. "Act normal, and" he paused wanting my full attention "don't let them back here." Liam gave me a smile and slowly turned and left the door swinging behind him. Joe carefully lowered his arms. "I need to hide the rags from dressing your wounds." He motioned towards the table I had been laying on and I quickly took in the pile of red rags scattered below it. "Philip is going to grab them." He motioned for Philip to walk towards the table. He slowly moved and delicately began to collect the rags soaked in my blood, placing them in a garbage bag.

"You have to trust us now. There is a pantry to your left." I heard voices trailing in from behind the kitchen door. The man, Liam, greeted someone. My throat tightened. Was it them? I looked at Joe and then Philip picking up the rags. Joe walked to the pantry and opened the door. I stood still, they could be trapping me. Joe sighed, he was failing at earning my trust. He rubbed the back of his neck, loosening the stress building up there. I could feel a cold sweat trickling down my back and my fingers began to lose sensation.

Joe sighed again. "To your left" he tilted his head "top drawer." I swallowed hard, forcing the dry lumps down and looked at the shelf he pointed at standing beside me. What? I couldn't think straight. What did he want? He motioned to it again. "Top drawer, go on." My bare legs wobbled. I just wanted to sit down. Could I sit down if I opened the drawer? No. Why would that matter? I shook my head, imagining sand pouring out of my ears as I fought to make sense. The word 'drawer' came back and I examined the top one on the shelf beside me. I would have to use my injured arm to open it as the other held the pan. I stepped forward and kept my eyes on Joe as I slowly tugged on the drawer. I winced at the movement and saw Joe frown. My numb fingers slid inside and felt cold steel. Slowly I pulled a culinary knife out. He was arming me. I lowered the frying pan and greedily took hold of another knife. A real weapon.

"Just the cook and owner on staff tonight." Liam's voice broke through the silence.

"Quick kid." Joe hissed and stepped back from the pantry. My eyes left him for the first time as I looked up at the kitchen door.

"Hey, you can't go back there!" Liam shouted as a set of feet pounded on the green tile. I tightened my grip on the knives and stumbled towards the pantry. Joe closed the door behind me and I leaned back on a shelf of can goods. The numbness was traveling up my arms and felt like small needles scratching me.

"Can I help you?" I heard Joe's voice and pressed my ear carefully against the thin wooden door.

"Sorry." My heart instantly began to pound at the sound of the voice. "My son ran off and I just need to check for him." I forced my numb fingers to tighten their grasp on the knives.

"No one new has been here for a few days." I heard dishes moving and water turn on. "Whats he look like?" I tried to keep my breathing steady as the panic kicked in. I could feel my strength fading, the lights were starting to go out again.

"Small kid with a long braid, can't miss it." The familiar gruff voice responded. I licked my lips but my mouth was dry. A large bang made me flinch. Another crash followed it. I nearly jumped. Stop, stay still, I ordered myself. Dishes, he was just washing dishes.

"Your son? No haven't seen him. You can leave the bartender contact info if you'd like." He was protecting me. Or was this a trap? Where were my pants? My mind danced, kicking confusing questions into the air. I closed my eyes to settle the questions when I heard Joe speak again. "Philip, I thought I told you to take out the trash?" He was changing the subject, ending the conversation by focusing on work.

"Alright." The gruff voice drawled. A minute went by and I tensely waited to hear the kitchen door swing. My head began to thud with the pulsing of my heart and I tilted it back to rest against a can of beans. Another minute passed and I heard nothing over my staggered breathing. The amount of blood I had lost was making me lethargic and my mind begged for me to let go, to escape into unconsciousness. I raised my arm and braced myself against the shelf in the small narrow pantry. I felt like a sailor earning his sea-legs as the room swayed. I couldn't stand much longer.

The door slowly opened and I raised my hand, the knife aimed at the opening. Bending my elbow I pulled my arm back and when the door opened further the knife and my hand shot forward, my fingers releasing the blade, letting it sail into the open space. A loud clank sounded followed by a curse.

"Kid, I told you it was safe to come out." I looked out the door and saw Joe standing with a pan in front of him. He had blocked the knife. I watched the irritation in his face slip away as he looked at me. He told me to come out? I didn't hear anything. I closed my eyes and heard only the thudding of my heart. "Phillip go grab the blanket." His voice broke me out of my dazed state and I opened my eyes and watched him step back.

"They're gone?" I spoke for the first time. My voice was low and dry as the words clawed their way out of my throat. Joe gave a strong nod yes.

"Can you walk?" His eyes studied me as he asked.

I was still leaning against the shelf and thought before responding. My legs were numb except for my feet, which felt like blocks of cement. I sighed. "No."

Joe opened the pantry door all of the way, allowing me to check the room, before stepping in. "Can I help you?" He asked, keeping his hands visible.

I nearly smiled at how delicately he was handling me. I couldn't imagine I looked very threatening, unable to stand, trembling with no pants on in a closet. His actions were to comfort me. But I did just throw a knife at him, so maybe I did have some fight left in me. He stood still, allowing me to scrutinize him. He held his shoulders back and his arms were well toned for his age. Military. But which one? I could see his eyes were dark chocolate, only the wrinkles around them showing his true age. A tremor shook my freezing body and I made my decision. He had given me no reason not to trust him. "Please." I released the knife I had been clenching and fully surrendered to him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies, it seems I managed to skip this chapter while posting! Oops!!

Joe immediately took hold of my raised hand and guided me out of the small doorway. Gently, he wrapped his arm around my waist, mindful of my ribs, and led me back to the metal table I had woken on. Philip stood back from the table with a blanket. His nervous eyes made me stop and Joe felt my arms go ridged. He glanced at Philip, noting my hesitation.

"You gave him that shiner."

My eyebrows arched at the bruise I had noticed earlier. The fact that I didn't remember striking him made me feel uneasy. What else had I done? I looked at the tall skinny man holding a blanket and nodded my head. "Sorry." I was genuine in my apology, but the word was laced in exhaustion and I hoped it didn't sound sarcastic. He smiled and appeared to relax.

"It's fine." He gained his courage and took a step forward and Joe began to lead me towards him.

"You were-" Joe paused as he decided on the right words, "a little unmanageable."

"More like an asshole." I hoarsely offered and heard a low chuckle released from Joe. We stopped next to Philip and I winced, feeling my sore ribs as I eyed the formidable metal table.

"What?" Joe stared down at me. I sighed as I realized just how helpless I was. His strong arms were holding me up and I felt once again like a child.

"I think I'd rather lay on the floor." I said in defeat. He held onto me as he thought it over. It wasn't like the metal table was any more comfortable than the tiled floor. He began to shift me, giving in to my request, and Philip came to my side to help slowly lower me. I snarled through my clenched teeth as the two tried to lay me down without hurting me any further. It was hard for them to find a place to grab me with my broken rib and injured arm.

I opened my eyes to find myself laying on the ground with the blanket covering me. The young man who had walked in on my frying pan standoff earlier appeared in front of me. I tried to remember his name, but I couldn't get passed the pounding headache. He looked down at me. "You passed out." His voice lacked sympathy as I fought the storm raging inside of my head.

"How long?" The words felt like they were ripped from me and I closed my eyes, begging the screams that shook my brain to quite. I cringed as they laughed at my request.

"You're not going to throw up are you?" I opened one eye to see olive ones peering down at me. He scrunched up his nose at the thought and pushed back his unkempt locks of dark hair that hung passed the tops of his ears.

"There's nothin' to throw up." I grumbled and opened my other eye. "How long was I out?" Talking hurt, and having to repeat myself was aggravating.

"Not long. Ten minutes." He stepped back out of my line of sight and I could hear him moving items. The sound of the door swinging grabbed my focus and Joe came into view carrying a jacket. He plopped it on top of me, trying to add another layer of warmth.

"Philip is watching the bar in case someone comes in." He informed me. I was grateful he saved me from asking a question as the screams were starting to die down. But wait—my mind began to hit the rewind button and I scowled. Joe, Phillip, and the olive eyed prick-

"There were six when I came in. Where are the other three?" Unaccounted for people were dangerous. The howling in my head came back as I focused on the missing people. "A bald guy, one with a mustache, and a large guy wearing a leather vest."

"Your memory is coming back. Your fever must be going down." Joe's lips slowly curled up his cheeks, revealing straight off-white teeth. "Those three hustled out of here after we got you subdued." I frowned, not knowing if they could be a threat. "They didn't want any problems."

"Please, those three are all foam and no beer." The younger man's voice bounced off the metal cabinets back to me. "They have more warrants than brain cells." That did not comfort me. I knew a lot of dangerous people led by their stupidity. It wasn't safe, I needed to leave.

"Where am I?" I rubbed my forehead, trying to erase the pain.

Joe leaned against the metal table to my right while the other came back into view and knelt beside me with a glass in his hand. He held the glass of water out to me and I tried again to recall his name. "Johnny's Bar off of route 2." I struggled to raise my head to accept the offered water and he opened the palm of his hand to reveal two white pills. "Headache?" He offered a solution to the thunderstorm crashing in my head. I wished I could accept, but my stubbornness and insecurity insisted I didn't. I would have to let the storm pass on its own. I shook my head no, causing him to sigh and pull back.

"What state?" I forced myself to finish the glass of water and watched his eyebrows arch as his olive eyes balked at my question.

"Pennsylvania." Joe answered, and my mind computed the information. Where could they have been taking me? If I narrowed down the options, then maybe I could figure out who had abducted me.

"Why, which state were you last in?" The other sat back on the heels of his feet. He wore a black short sleeved shirt with well toned arms snug along the sleeves. I thought he might be of Greek descent with his sun-kissed complexion. I would guess he was about ten years older than me.

"Two states over." I vaguely answered him as I fought to shuffle the new information in with the old. "I can't stay here." I glanced at them both.

"I don't know what kind of trouble you got yourself into Kid." Joe pressed off of the metal table and moved so I could easily look at him. He was frowning at my pathetic state. "I don't know who you are, but I don't think you got a fair deal by the looks of ya."

"I dealt myself in." I bitterly said in response to his sympathy. I slowly pulled my good arm back and used my elbow to gently help myself into a sitting position. I bit my lip as my abs tightened around my ribs. "And I'm not out yet." I pulled the jacket and blanket back, I needed to do a status report on myself before leaving. My left arm was neatly bandaged.

"It's infected." Joe sighed, showing his displeasure with my movement. "Bullet is out and its clean, but it was covered in mud and left untreated for too long." I nodded, taking the information in. He knew how to handle injuries. First hand experience? I noticed the worn black shirt I was wearing for the first time. The nameless man caught me trying to read the logo on it.

"It's a little large for you, but it's all I had in my truck. Your clothes were torn to shreds." So I was wearing his shirt, and one of the trucks parked outside was his. It was only small bits of information, but I had to focus to register them. My thoughts were mixing and bumping together like a crowded crosswalk. I blankly nodded my thanks to him and then awkwardly used my hand to slowly pull back the shirt to take a look at my torso.

"Damn." The shirt's owner drawled out. My stomach looked like a bruised plum, dark purple with brown spots. I sighed and pulled the shirt back down. It felt as bad as it looked. I stretched my legs and only felt minor bruises and lacerations, but I still needed a pair of pants. That annoyed me. Overall though, the infected bullet wound was the only injury that would be of concern. There was nothing I could do about the ribs, I would just have to ignore the discomfort they caused.

Satisfied, I pressed on to other matters. Phone. I had to contact someone. "Is there a phone I can use?" I looked away from the bandages to Joe. He nodded and then exited the kitchen. Who could I call? There were the other pilots, but I had only seen them a handful of times. The door swung back open and Joe bent down to hand me a cellular phone. "Does it have colony connection?" I inquired, but had little faith that I would be able to dial out to a colony. He nodded his head no and I noticed the others eyebrows raise slightly. I was a puzzle to them, and they were slowly trying to gather the pieces.

I held the phone in my hand and closed my eyes, thinking back to the last reported whereabouts of the others. 01 and 04 were still on Earth, but in Europe I thought. 03 was in space, and I wasn't sure where 05 was. It didn't even matter where they were, I had no way to get a hold of them. I huffed in aggravation. Next time I saw any of them we would set up a communication line. We are allies, and it only made sense that we would have access to each other.

I could feel eyes examining me as the phone sat silent in my hand. I continued to think about my limited options. There's Howard. He was on the West coast last week. My mind skipped around trying to think of anyone else, but there was no one. I opened my eyes and began to dial a number. I would leave him a message on the voicemail we had setup. He would be checking it. A beep indicated my time to speak. "It's me. I had car problems in Pennsylvania. I will call again for a pickup." I left the vague message and hung up. I handed the phone back to Joe, who accepted it and placed it on the metal table behind him.

I began to feel drowsy, the fever from the infected wound was making its presence known as my body tried to fight it. Keep going. I forced passed it, I had to plan my next step. What now? It was hard to focus on a plan of action. What should be as simple as tying my shoes, became complicated as I fought to separate delirious thoughts with my survival instincts. The word 'transportation' floated by and I grabbed it, recognizing its importance.

"Closest town?" Chills began to travel across my clammy skin as I asked.

"Thirty miles north." Olive eyes seemed to enjoy throwing a wrench in my plans and watched for my reaction to the distance. My eyes narrowed, ignoring his smug look. My legs worked, but that would be too far. Hitchhike—No, I would be too exposed. Hide in the woods until Howard came—No, I was in no condition for that. I listed my limited options, but found none to be acceptable. There had to be other solutions, but I couldn't formulate any. My mind felt like a game of tic-tac-toe. I couldn't win no matter where the X's and O's went.

"I was supposed to head out a few hours ago." The younger man broke through my jumbled thoughts. "You've already made me late for my drop off." He smirked. "You might as well continue to inconvenience me." He crossed his arms as he looked down at me. "I can give you a lift."

I silently stared at him while I reflected on his offer. I did not care for his cocky attitude, but I did not have many options. It at least provided an opportunity to leave the bar, which I needed to do ASAP. My location was compromised. I could find new transportation once we were a few miles out. I nodded my head yes.

"We'll pull out in an hour squirt." He turned and left, ignoring my glare. The kitchen door swung behind him and I wondered how his nose would look after I punched it.

"He can be a smart ass, but he's a good kid. You can trust Liam."

Ah, yes, Liam. His name registered. I nearly grinned, Prick suited him better. "Unfortunately, I have to trust him." My eyes left the swinging door to look up at Joe.

"I'll start looking around for some supplies. You'll need a few things."

"You own the place?" I had assumed it when I saw him standing behind the bar when I came in.

"Bought it a few years back. I got tired of the road." He shrugged. "Liam's been a regular for two years now." He added for my comfort. "Philip works here on and off." My arm was getting tired from supporting me and I laid down carefully with a grimace on my pale face. "I'm not asking you to tell me anything-" Joe thoughtfully looked down at me, "but whatever you're involved in, is it worth it?"

"Who did you serve?" I evaded an answer with a question.

"I guess it's obvious isn't it?" He paused. There was no covering up trained instincts. "Just like you." He tugged his baseball cap further down on his head. "I was part of Treize's elite OZ before Romefeller took over the Alliance. Shortly after that, OZ became center stage and I was too old and uncertain of their goal." He sighed in disappointment. I wasn't sure if it was for himself or for OZ. He then focused on me. "You're different though." He reflected and I wanted to squirm as he calmly stared down at me.

"Yeah, that's gotten the shit kicked out of me a few times." I smiled, trying to make light of his scrutiny. My headache had weakened to a persistent murmurer, but the fever was dancing across my body. Joe continued to watch me and when I said nothing more he respectfully turned away instead of trying to pry me open.

"Just don't get Liam into anything. He needs a good slap upside the head every now and then," he turned back before being out of my view, "but I think you two are the same. Been through too damn much." He turned back towards the door. "I'll be back with some supplies."

I frowned. I hated people's sympathy, it made me feel weak. What I had been through was my own damn business. Still, he had me curious about my soon to be chauffeur Liam. I shook my head. That didn't matter. I needed to focus on evading capture, and in order to do that I needed to figure out who was after me. My eyes slowly closed, heavy with exhaustion. Well maybe I could rest for a little while. I nuzzled into the jacket laying across my chest, giving in to the slumber that beckoned me.

I ignored the sound of the door opening as I felt myself slowly drifting into the realm of sleep. Hurried steps and a hand on my shoulder pulled me back and I quickly opened my eyes. Joe raised his finger to his lips, motioning for me to be silent. My heart quickened and I held my breath. He nodded his head, silently confirming the fear evident in my eyes. They were back.


	7. Chapter 7

Joe began to pull me towards the back door. I could feel my mind clicking into combat mod, it was like a lever being pushed to the ON position. All my senses heightened and focused. I hated feeling like a machine, but I allowed my training to override all other thoughts. I held my hand up to stop him, the door was most likely being watched, it was an unacceptable escape route. He narrowed his eyes, silently asking me what then? There was no time, and it was not just my life in danger now.

I headed for the large garbage bin that Philip had emptied earlier, it wouldn't be the first time I took advantage of my small stature. I could hear arguing as Joe quickly helped lift me inside and I choked on the scream of pain trying to escape. Joe grabbed the full garbage bag waiting by the back door and ripped it open. He forced a semi-automatic pistol into my hands, and with an apologetic sigh, he began to cover me with the trash. I bowed my head as it poured down. Holding my breath, I cringed as my body was coated in wet gobs and I could feel slimy remnants trickling across my neck. When someone says things can't get any worse, they are lying. The garbage began to settle over me and I silently sat in the stench. I could feel my bitter misery entangle me and weigh me down like chains of steel.

"Where is he?" A voice commanded.

"You tell me!" Joe hollered back. "Your son took off with my car." In spite of the filth covering me, a smile crept across my face, silently applauding Joe's cover. I heard movement, doors opening and closing and pans being disrupted as he searched for me like an infuriating game of hide and seek.

"A guy in town said he was here." My smile slipped into a frown. Who had it been? Mustache guy, bald guy, or leather vest?

"Yeah, he was not all with it. When I left him alone he took off with my car." Yes, had I not passed out, that would have been my plan of action. I would have underestimated Joe, which would have been a costly mistake.

"When?" The word was vehemently hissed.

"Less than an hour. Let's go, I want my car and you want your son." It was silent for a moment, the room quietly waiting in suspense for his response.

"Dammit!" The curse followed the sound of a hand punching the kitchen door, its hinges vibrated in shock. "Let's go."

I grimly sat still while listening to the fading sound of feet stomping across the floor. While I applauded his efforts, I couldn't let Joe lead them on a wild goose chase. I didn't know who they were, but I knew they had no problem resorting to violence. I was a coward hiding in a damn garbage can! My anger forced my fingers to tighten their grip on the gun. I would not let Joe and the others suffer for helping me.

In pathetic determination, I slowly began to stand and half eaten meals and liquids slipped off of me. I focused on the gun in my hand, ignoring my dripping bangs and the slime coating my arms. Carefully, I stepped over the rim of the can, the movement stretching my ribs. As my feet touched the ground I could no longer hear talking. I had to hurry. I raced across the floor, my bare feet slipping, and I fumbled to balance myself. As I neared the door, I gingerly placed my face to the side of it, listening with my finger on the gun's trigger.

"Stay with them." The hushed words traveled through the door. My eyes narrowed at the developing hostage situation. They were separating them, Joe was leaving with the man in charge. I had to reach Joe before he was forced into the car and driven out of range. "Let's go." I heard the front door whine as it was forced open. My mind began to formulate a plan. The older man, the one calling the shots, I had to take him out first. The younger man would be more hesitant to react if he heard gunfire. He obeyed orders and was slow to act on his own, at least I hoped. With a plan of action, I turned, my feet sliding across the floor, and ran to the back door. I opened it and peered into the misty morning. A small lot was behind the building with a dumpster set in the corner.

I stepped out and worked my way around the side of the building, hugging the brick wall. There was only one way in and out, he would have to come around the corner here. The adrenaline pumped through me, a shot of energy and courage. My finger twitched on the trigger when I heard car doors slamming. An engine turned and the sound of gravel against tires bounced off of the wall behind me. I had to get this right or it wold cost Joe his life. I took a deep breath and stepped out onto the gravel road. The car was a few yards in front of me.

It felt like time paused for me to take aim. My other senses dulled as my sense of sight was amplified. My injured arm painfully rose to cradle and steady my right hand as it aimed the gun. I leaned forward slightly and bent my knees, firmly balancing myself. The bullet trajectory would be affected by the windshield. I aimed lower. My eyes locked on to his shocked face. His eyes registered who I was and what was about to happen. I focused on him alone, never looking at Joe in the passenger seat. He was about to slam on the breaks. You mother fucker. I exhaled and pulled the trigger.

The first shot was quickly followed with another. The second struck him in his right eye. The car began to swerve and I turned and rushed back to the building. Joe would have to gain control of the vehicle. I needed to get back before the younger man had enough time to respond to the gunshots. In my mind I could hear the seconds furiously ticking by, each threatening death for Philip and Liam.

I yanked the back door open and raced across the kitchen and slammed into the kitchen door. I had to find the target quickly. The gunshots and the banging door would surprise him and I had to take him down while he was trying to compute the sounds. I saw Liam and Philip first, large eyes staring at me from across the bar. I continued to scan the far wall until I saw him standing beside the front door. He was spinning around to look at me, his hand raising a gun. I pulled the trigger. The crack of the bullet echoed in my ears as the young man collapsed to the ground. I kept my gun aimed until his head slumped to the side.

Dammit. I didn't want him dead. I needed him for answers. I slowly lowered my gun, my eyes focused on the young man slipping into death. I had to. He turned with a gun. I argued with myself before leaning against the wall behind me and sliding down to the floor. I was so tired.

Joe came racing in and I could see Liam and Philip frantically moving across the room, but my ears filled with the thudding of my heart and I did not register what they were saying or doing. My eyes fell down to my bare legs and I sighed heavily.

I counted. 1-2-3-4-5. In those five seconds I had to pull myself back together. I could not dwell on two more deaths for more than five seconds. The pain and panic had to be turned off, and I demanded control after I reached the number five. It was a tactic I used whenever I was on the verge of breaking down. I learned that five seconds of reflection was all I could afford.

After five, I used the wall as support and pushed myself up to stand. I stopped thinking about the dead and looked at the three men across from me for the first time. They stood together watching me, uncertainty clear upon their faces. I'm sure I looked like a mad man covered in slime with only a pair of boxers on. Stepping forward, I placed the semi-automatic on one of the scattered wooden tables, trying to put them at ease.

"You should leave. I don't know if they were working with others." I looked into Joe's eyes. "I am sorry." I held his gaze for a moment, showing my apology was sincere, before walking towards the now dead young man. I looked down at him and the pool of blood circling him. The bright red was beautiful, like melted crayons slowly gliding across the floor. It was going to be a bitch to clean up. I frowned in thought, I could put him in the car with the other and then dispose of it. As I thought something trickled down my brow and I wasn't sure if it was sweat or remnants of the garbage. A wave of dizziness made me sway when I stepped towards the front door. It must be sweat from a fever.

"Stop." Joe's command startled me. I was focused on the dead and I had forgotten about the living. Sighing, I slowly raised my arms and turned to face him. There was no way I could fight them, nor did I want to. His eyes narrowed and once again I had a hard time reading him. "Liam," he continued to watch me as he spoke, "go pull your truck around." He took a step towards me and the dead man at my feet. He pointed to my right. "Go clean yourself up in the bathroom. You two are getting out of here. Philip and I can take care of this." I lowered my arms in confusion. He couldn't be serious. Liam stood beside him and I saw him slowly smile, he liked his orders. He crossed the room and carefully scooted passed me, avoiding the pool of blood as he left to get his truck.

"Move it." Joe ordered me. Confused, I obeyed and numbly walked to the restroom. I pushed the door open, it swung on its hinges like the kitchen door did. The room was small with a sink, a single stall, and one urinal. It showed the building's age, but it was kept clean. I walked towards the sink and turned the faucet on and water rushed to greet my fingers. What was happening? They were going to dispose of the bodies? I couldn't let them do that. I began to rub my hands and looked up. My thoughts were derailed as I saw my reflection in the mirror hanging above the porcelain sink. I gasped.

My hair was a stark contrast to my pale face. It hung loosely with odd strands escaping and small globs of food sticking to it. The dark bags below my eyes were prominent, but the hollow glazed look starring back at me was more concerning. The large dark pupils were evidence of the fever I was fighting. My one cheek had blotches of purple, a bruise forming below the scratches and gravel burns from my fight with the young man yesterday. Was that yesterday, no two days ago? My split lips frowned. I looked like hell. The water over my fingers turned hot and I jerked them back with a hiss. I lowered my eyes from the frightening sight and concentrated on cleaning my hands and arms. A lite knock at the door grabbed my attention. It slowly pushed open and Liam poked his head in.

"How's it going?" He stepped inside as I cupped water in my one hand and raised it to my face to gently rinse it.

"Just dandy." I mumbled. I could feel his gaze as I grabbed a handful of paper towels and lightly patted my face dry. Carefully, I leaned over the sink as far as I could bear and began to rinse my hair out.

"It would be easier to stick your head in the toilet." Liam offered without hiding his amusement. I ignored him and continued the tedious and painful process.

"Philip said to take this." I looked to see him extending a white shirt. I stood up and looked down at my own and saw it drenched in questionable liquids and crinkled my nose at the smell of myself. "You aren't getting into my truck wearing that." Liam grinned and took a step closer.

My right arm reached out and took the shirt he offered. "Doesn't anyone have an extra pair of pants?" I grumbled and placed the shirt on the edge of the sink and slowly began to roll my black shirt back from my stomach. I sucked in a gasp of air from the movement. Liam watched, intrigued by my stubbornness. When I did not ask for assistance he stepped forward, and without asking, helped pull the shirt over my shoulders and head.

I noticed how much taller he was than me as we stood beside each other. He was a good two heads above mine. He said nothing while he carefully helped put the semi-clean white shirt on me. It wasn't fresh out of the wash, but it was far better than the one I had been wearing. I refused to scream out in pain as he pulled my injured arm through the shirt sleeve. Denying the pain an escape route, it was redirected until it gained enough strength and it forced its escape. I quickly turned as I spit up yellow bile into the sink. I coughed it out and closed my eyes from the stinging taste of misery.

"I thought you said you had nothing to throw up?" Liam laughed and crossed his arms while taking in my pain.

I turned, but my smart-ass reply was stopped by Philip opening the door. "Joe says it's time to go." I nodded and pushed passed Liam as Philip held the door open. When I saw the front door I was surprised to see the body gone, but the pool of blood still marked the spot of death. Joe came through the door as Philip grabbed a bucket and a mop.

"You need to go."

I wanted to reply, but I struggled to understand what was happening and I couldn't formulate an intelligent response, so I stood mute.

"I can handle this." He insisted, thinking that was why I was not moving.

I closed my eyes to try and focus. Okay, I killed two people-Philip was cleaning-I had to leave-But it's my mess-I was putting their lives at risk-A hand carefully touched my shoulder, pulling me from my task of organizing my thoughts.

"Kid?" The hand shook lightly. I opened my eyes to see Joe's deep brown eyes looking down at me.

"You need to go."

I looked back to Philip mopping up the blood. "Did you add bleach? You need hydrogen peroxide for the woodwork." I mumbled. "You can't set the car on fire, the smoke will attract attention." There were too many factors that couldn't be ignored, and my mind began to assault me with them.

"Kid."

"I need to get rid of the car-"

"Kid!" Joe shook me and my eyes finally met his. "I got this." He tried to assure me. I shook my head no. This was my problem, not his. My mind still raced to figure out how to hide the car.

"Truck. We can load the car into the trailer of a truck and get it out of town." Joe opened his mouth and then closed it in thought. It was a good idea. He nodded his head in agreement.

"Fine. We can use Philip's truck, but you and Liam are out of here, now."

"I can drive it out of here." I sternly argued, gathering my wits.

"You couldn't drive more than two miles before passing out." Liam cut in. "Joe can handle it." He firmly stated. "Now get in my damn truck already." He crossed his arms, silently daring me to argue with him. I wondered how the one who just killed two men, was now the one being threatened. Why was I not in control? Joe's hand fell from my shoulder.

"The longer you stay here, the greater we are at risk." He threw the fact at me like a knife. It sliced through my need for control and I sighed.

"I'm not listening to any damn country music." I grumbled my surrender and turned to Liam.

–

I was quickly ushered into Liam's truck before I could change my mind. Joe closed the door and my head leaned out the opened window. He was risking his life for a stranger. I did not know what to say, because I did not understand it.

"Good luck kid." He patted the door twice and stepped back as he looked up at me. Liam began to pull away and I panicked. I had to thank him. How?

"Duo. My name is Duo." I said out the window as the truck switched gears. He smiled at the only thing I could give him.

"Good luck Duo." He shouted, and then turned to direct Philip as he backed up his truck to load the car inside. I gently sat back into my seat and let my head rest against the cushion.

"Where to?" Liam inquired without looking at me. The trees began to race past us as the truck picked up speed and we left Johnny's Bar behind.

"Anywhere." I whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

"Would you stop that?" Liam huffed, grabbing my attention. He sat behind the wheel, his long legs easily reaching the pedals, with his back leaning straight against the well padded seat. His eyes were hidden below the rim of his baseball cap, and his dark hair escaped in unmanageable clumps. He looked completely at ease driving the truck, yet it did not suit him. I could picture him driving a racecar, more than a truck.

"You haven't stopped scanning every damn thing we've passed since we pulled out." His green eyes glared at me like a teacher warning his student to behave. I nearly laughed. He was able to pull off the intense look, but nothing could phase me after seeing Heero Yuy's. My eyes were too tired to compete in a glaring match, so I surrendered by looking back out the window. It had been an hour since our journey began. I was anxious, and it was obvious.

"You need to pull off at the next rest stop." I quietly ordered while watching cows take shelter under a single tree in a field of grass. We had driven passed several farms, and I marveled at how much land and space there was on Earth. Liam kept his eyes on the road as he moved to pass a truck.

"We are making good time. We don't need to stop." He finished passing and glanced at me. I looked back, trying to show a look of determination, not the dizziness currently wreaking havoc in my head.

"Whoa, you are not seriously going to hurl again?" Clearly I failed.

"No." I curtly said and looked away, like a child pouting. A moment of silence passed until I broke it, finally finishing my train of thought. We had to stop. "Do you have electrical tape?" Liam nodded, and I imagined his eyebrows knotted beneath his baseball cap as he tried to figure out what I was up to. "Your plates, you were parked at Johnny's, someone might recognize them." I ceased his wondering.

He snorted in response. "You are paranoid! Who the hell would take the time to write down random license plates?" He looked at me while shaking his head in disbelief.

"The same people who lock a person in a trunk." The words snapped like a whip and his smile fell. I sighed, not meaning to say it aloud, but I was beyond tired. Managing my thoughts and what I was saying was difficult. Liam silently pointed to the small closet directly behind my seat.

"Top shelf, there's a small toolkit."

I carefully stood and stepped over the small cooler that was wedged between our seats and moved to the closet. His truck was older, but in good condition. He kept it tidy and somewhat organized. There was another small storage closet at the back of his seat and I could see it was filled with maps and random items. I spread my legs to balance myself as I looked into the closet Liam had pointed to. I found and pulled down the toolkit that was resting above a small selection of clothes. My eyes quickly scanned them, but I didn't see an extra pair of pants. Even if they were too large for me, I would have gladly put them on.

I placed the toolkit on a table tucked between the closet and a narrow bed against the back of the cabin. I carefully rummaged through the kit and victoriously removed half a roll of black electrical tape. I lifted the toolkit back onto the shelf and climbed over the cooler and nearly collapsed into my seat. I wiped away the sweat beading on my forehead, and fought back the urge to breathe heavily. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the seat, waiting for the swaying to settle. I focused on the steady momentum of the truck.

"Another mile." Liam referred to the next rest stop and I held back a sigh. I hated being weak in front of others.

–

Liam parked the truck in the back of the lot, away from any prying eyes. Raising his eyebrows, he looked over at me. "You are not getting out of the truck. They will call the cops on me if they see," he motioned his hands at me "this."

"Fine." I couldn't disagree with him, he was right. I tossed him the tape. "Be discreet about it."

He rolled his eyes as he caught the tape. "Aye-aye sir." He saluted while opening the door and then gracefully hopped out. I couldn't see him as he walked around the truck and altered the numbers on his plates. Annoyed with my convalescent state, I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. I had to be on guard, but I needed just a moment.

I jolted back, my head smacking the passenger window, when I felt something land on me. My eyes popped open and I raised my hands in defense. An eruption of laughter had my eyes narrowing while my one fist turned into a single finger saluting Liam. He climbed into the truck with a wide grin gracing his face. Frowning, I gently checked the large gash on the back of my head from my kidnappers. The blood remained clotted, so I forced passed the headache and looked down to see what now rested on my lap.

A gray plastic bag with the words "Thank you" checkered about it had been the culprit. I must have dozed off long enough for Liam to walk inside of the rest stop and make some purchases. That annoyed me and made me vulnerable. I carefully opened the plastic bag, not trusting Liam, who was still grinning. No doubt he was replaying my startled reaction over in his mind. When I peeked inside I released a heavy sigh. Pants. He had bought me a pair of dark blue jeans. I lifted them out of the bag to admire them.

"I'm tired of looking at your skinny white legs." Liam started the truck and it rumbled awake. I looked down to see what else he had bought. Sports drinks, granola bars, and deodorant. I lifted the deodorant out and raised my eyebrows.

"That bad?" I inquired.

He nodded. "The windows are staying down." He pointed his thumb back towards his sleeping space. "You can clean yourself up back there."

Nodding, I grabbed the pants and deodorant and carefully stood from my seat. He had surprised me with his thoughtfulness. Not just the pants, but I needed the drinks and food more desperately than I wanted to admit. I paused while climbing over the cooler nestled between the seats.

"Thank you."

He nodded, brushing it off, while keeping his eyes on the approaching ramp as we accelerated and left the rest area.

–

My mind was drifting out to sea, I felt like I was in a small boat lightly being rocked by waves that gently reassured me it was okay to let go. My destination was sleep, but I did not trust the sea, calm waters were too rare. The waves began to heave and I struggled to reach the shore to stay awake. I forced my eyes open and shifted in my seat.

"Go back and lay down already." Liam ordered for the fifth time.

I gently rubbed my eyes, minding the bruise on my one cheek, and hissed when my arm began to throb. The bandages would have to be changed soon. A headache continued to hum behind my eyes,and I reached to the side where my cup holder held the sports drink Liam had purchased. I took a gulp of it, still trying to hydrate myself.

"I'm going to need to contact someone soon." I placed the blue colored drink back down in the cup holder, for the fifth time ignoring Liam's request. He sighed at my stubbornness. We were four hours on the road now. I was less anxious the further we drove, but I still refused to let my guard down. My eyes began to close again, it was becoming more difficult to remain alert as my body protested with each mile.

"Okay, sure. We can make a call when we stop for lunch." Liam's eyes abandoned the road to look at me. "And you need to take care of that." He focused on my left arm.

"Sure thing Mom." I rolled my eyes, annoyed that he was right and stating what I already knew.

"Smart-ass. Just like him..." He trialed off as his hand reached across the large dashboard to check his stats. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him. We returned to silence and I knew I wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer if it continued. I debated if passing out was better than starting a conversation and opening myself to questions. Clearly Liam was comfortable driving in silence, he was used to it. My eyes became heavy and I sighed.

"Who?"

He looked at me, not hiding his surprise. I raised my good shoulder in a shrug of defeat. "I don't want to pass out." I admitted my need to converse and he smiled. I wasn't sure if it meant he understood, or if he was thinking about me passing out.

"What, twenty questions?" His eyes shined with a taunting amusement.

I released another sigh and turned to the window. It wouldn't be the worst interrogation I had been through, but I couldn't tell him anything. If we were captured, it was safer for both of us if he knew nothing. I guess I would have to give into sleep.

"I'm an open book." He continued, pulling me back before I gave up. "You can keep your 'mystery boy' title," he paused "I like a good challenge" he finished, as if he had accepted one. I turned to look at him and he caught my gaze. I silently waited, judging his response. I wasn't sure if I liked it.

"My brother. That's who you remind me of." He refereed back to his previous comment and answered my question. "He's about your age, taller though." He glanced at me, hoping for a reaction. I stopped myself from snarling and smiled at him instead.

"Lucky for him, he must be good looking."

"You're both cocky, but looks I'm not sure of. You ain't lookin' too pretty." He pulled his baseball cap up for the first time to run his fingers through his hair and then pulled it back down.

"I've seen better days." I admitted, knowing I looked like hell. "Why a truck driver?" I placed the focus back on him.

"My brother and I were separated when we were evacuated during the revolts." He graciously accepted the burden of the conversation. "I started driving after, not having anyplace to go back to, and I figure my odds of meeting up with him increase the more I travel." He leaned across our seats and snapped open the cooler to remove a bottle of water. He took a long gulp of it and then set it aside in his cup holder. "Mom died during the revolt, so I keep looking. That's what she would want."

I silently took in what he openly shared. I was never able to talk about my past, I wanted it locked away. Liam seemed to do it with such ease. I was envious of him and curious how he did it.

"Your mom alive?" He asked. A fair question since he had shared so much, and it was a safe question that I could honestly answer.

"Maybe." I shrugged, I really had no idea. He frowned at my response and we both returned to the silence.

–

We pulled into another rest stop for lunch. My balance was unsteady and Liam had to help me down from the truck's high step. He parked near a row of phone booths and I made my way over to them while he headed inside to find us something to eat. I checked the voicemail box and was glad to hear a message from Howard, confirming that he had received mine. I called back and left him a new message. Liam would be taking me to a town on the border of Pennsylvania and Ohio. I gave Howard the location and guessed we would be arriving by nightfall.

I made my way back over to the truck and leaned against the door, studying the clouds above. It was an overcast day, but I could tell the sun was still trying to come out, fighting for a few moments of time before being forced to retreat into the night. For once I hoped it failed. I had learned to appreciate the sun's warmth while on Earth, but I knew its intense light would not help my incessant headache. A dreary day suited my mood.

I heard Liam approaching and watched him walk passed with two brown bags and a tray holding large drinks. He made his way across the parking lot to a small grass area with a few scattered trees and placed the food on a picnic table. I pushed off of the truck, my grumbling stomach leading me, and made my way to the picnic area.

"The food options are pretty limited." He slid a bag across to me as I sat down. "But it's better than a vending machine."

"Better than rations." I added. I felt Liam watching me and I quickly brought my attention to my bag. I pulled out a wrapped sandwich and a green apple. Carefully, I unwrapped the sandwich and smiled. Ham. My favorite. Liam noted my satisfaction.

"Made the right choice?"

I nodded yes. "Thank you." I raised the sandwich in appreciation.

"Did you make your call?" He bit into his sandwich and spoke with a mouthful of turkey.

I nodded yes while I chewed and reached for my drink to help swallow it. After taking a gulp of soda I sighed. It had been a long time since I had the pleasure of drinking a large soda. "I told him we would be there tonight."

"Good." Liam took one last large bite of his sandwich. "Then we," he swallowed, "have time to clean up." He slurped the rest of his drink while I continued to eat my sandwich, amazed at how quickly he devoured his.

"They have a small washroom inside." He picked up his apple and began to toss it back and forth between his hands.

I paused before taking another bite of my sandwich. A shower sounded wonderful. At the moment, washing my hair would be better than detonating an OZ base. I frowned, showering would be too difficult though, and I did not have the energy to do it. "I will just change my bandages and clean up when I get back." I took the last bite of my sandwich, thinking I wasn't sure where 'back' was.

"Nope." Liam caught the apple and examined it, trying to find the perfect spot to bite in. "I will leave your ass here unless you take a shower." His mouth wrapped around the apple and a loud crunch and sucking noise followed. He pulled the apple away from his mouth, chewing like a horse. "You need it."

"I'd still rather hold off. It's not safe." And it was going to hurt like a bitch. I picked up my apple, but I did not want it after watching Liam annihilate his.

"Your choice." He smiled and stood up. "Stay here or shower." As if to emphasize he meant it, he grabbed his garbage and strolled over to a trashcan and dropped it in and continued on to his truck. I sat still. I could call Howard and give him a new pickup location...but the more messages I left the more likely it was for something to get mixed up. I grumbled and my head fell down in defeat.

–

Liam stood guard outside of my shower station, watching the door. The place was not busy, and currently no one was in the washroom with us. I tugged my new jeans off first, saving the difficult task of removing the shirt for last. I hung them with my boxers on a hook on the backside of the door, assuring they would stay dry. With a sigh, I readied myself to take my shirt off. I pulled my right arm inside of the sleeve and pulled it up, so that the shirt hung around my neck and my injured left arm, revealing my bruised ribs. Sighing again, I began to tug the shirt over my head with my freed arm. As hard as I tried to hold it back, I moaned in pain as my arm burned and felt like it was in a meat grinder. My ribs screamed as I tried to bend to yank the shirt off. Could I shower with it halfway off? I looked at the nondetachable rusting shower head above. Nope.

After the second strangled yelp of pain I heard Liam through the door. "Shirt?" He inquired. I rolled my eyes. What the hell else would it be?

"Yes." I clenched my jaw, holding back what I really wanted to say to him. My mood had quickly turned foul and I blamed him for it, and for the pain I was in. The door opened and Liam stepped in without asking.

I glared at him, the shirt halfway over my head. He snorted at my predicament, and keeping his eyes above my waist, he strolled over and yanked the shirt over my head and down my arm. I yelped as it tugged across the wound.

"Son-of-a-bitch." I growled while cradling my arm.

"You're welcome." He turned and left, closing the door behind him.

–

Thirty tiring minutes later, I finished washing and managed to rinse my hair out fairly well. I left it in the messy braid and cringed thinking about how difficult it was going to be when I tried to brush it. My whole body ached and the water made the scratches that littered my bruised skin burn. I slipped back into my boxers and jeans, but left the shirt off. Liam knocked, having heard the water stop.

"Finished?" He shouted through the closed door. I ignored him, annoyed at how sore I was and how much I just wanted to lay down. He knocked once more and then opened the door while I was examining my arm. The skin around the entry wound was black and green and it was tender to the touch. Liam avoided the small puddles left on the tiled floor as he walked over to me and lifted my arm.

"Dammit!" I cursed as he tugged it and the pain shot through me like a derailed train, catching and pulling at every muscle as it flipped and crashed.

"Stop squirming." He ordered. "This is badly infected." He held onto my arm and glared at me. "Why the hell didn't you say anything?"

I began seething through my teeth. "I can handle it. Now let go." I could feel drops of water trailing down my cheeks from my wet bangs plastered to my forehead.

"If you could handle it, then why did you let it get this bad?" He spat back, gripping my wrist.

He had no idea who he was talking to. I knew how to treat a wound, but I also knew when it was more important to run then worry about injuries. He was treating me like an ignorant child, when I was anything but that. I yanked my arm away from him, the movement rubbing the tendons in my previously dislocated shoulder.

"Let go." I swallowed back the pain as my anger grew.

"No." His eyes narrowed, challenging me. My free arm swung up, my fingers clenched in a fist, and landed right between his eyes. He stumbled back in shock and I grinned. Now I would see how his pretty little nose looked broken.

His hands went to his face and covered his nose and his eyes turned dark, intensely starring at me like a lion before it pounced. He pulled his hands back and I was disappointed to see that I hadn't broken it, but he would be marred with a good bruise. Satisfied that he would at least have a bruise, I could feel my anger begin to slip away, and with it, my energy. I was so damn tired. I felt the blow on my cheek before I could block it. My head snapped to the side and I fought to keep my balance. He was fast and I was a fool for not paying attention to him. The taste of blood began to fill my mouth and I spat it out onto the yellowed tile, it mixed with the water slowing heading towards the drain.

My anger flickered back on and I charged him in a wave of fury, but my bare feet slipped on the wet tile. Before I could reach him I began to fall backwards. My muscles tightened, preparing for the fall. I curled in as best I could to protect myself. This was going to hurt. It felt like the ground jumped up and yanked me down as I slammed against it. I managed to keep my head from connecting with the tile, but my neck snapped with the jolt and it felt like my ribs had been crushed as I curled inward and fought to breathe. I gasped, fighting to fill my lungs with air. My eyes squeezed shut.

Worst fucking week ever.

I felt Liam's hands gently grab my shoulders while I tired to decide if I should stay cradled gasping for air, or stretch out to release the pressure on my ribs. Neither were comfortable.

"Damn. Are you always such a hotheaded asshole?" Liam chided as he moved me to my side, trying to help me breathe through the pain.

"Are you-" I gasped, "always such- a prick?" The words were a whisper over the ringing in my ears. I over did it, and now I was paying for it.

"Guilty." His truthful response made me grin despite the dots I saw when I opened my eyes. I was getting a migraine. "Come on." He carefully began to lift me up. My jeans were now soaked. I hated wet pants, they were the worst. I closed my eyes as I felt the room sway.

"Gonna—sick." Was all I could get out before the soda and ham sandwich came up. Liam quickly shifted me to face away from him as I heaved up the chunks. He held onto me and said nothing as I spat out the last remnants of lunch. I must have looked really pathetic, because he didn't even make a sarcastic comment. He waited another moment before slowly pulling me into a standing position.

"Let's go. You need to lay down and I can use the bandages Joe packed to fix up your arm." I said nothing as he grabbed my shirt to tug over me before leading me to the truck.

–

"Let's go Sleeping Beauty." The words chiseled through my wall of sleep, slowly cracking it until I woke up. I had passed out after making it to the truck. I remembered Liam changing the bandages on my arm, but I needed more than a fresh wrap on it. Now I fully felt my soar muscles from my fall in the shower. I looked up to see Liam leaning over me with his olive eyes, but this time deep purple blotches were under them and his nose had a red bump. I would have smiled at the memory of punching him, had my head and aching muscles not reminded me of the fall that followed immediately after.

"We're here." Liam stepped back as I tried to make sense of his words. Where was here? I began to close my eyes, not caring. The pain faded when I slept, so why stay awake? No. I had to wake up, it wasn't safe. I heard the truck door open and his words came back to me. Here. My eyes opened in realization, the pickup location. Howard would be waiting.

I slowly sat up in the small bed and pushed the covers off of my legs. They were bare again, Liam had hung my jeans up in the hopes of drying them. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and planted them on the floor. I rose to reach for the pants, but sat back down as the cabin spun. I noticed how hot and clammy I was then. Fever from the infected wound. Gritting my teeth, I carefully stood up and snatched the pants and tugged them on. I was almost out of this, just a little more to go.

Liam opened the passenger door for me and stood waiting to help me down. "Who are we looking for?" He asked as his hand grabbed hold of my arm and stopped me from falling. I closed my eyes but it didn't stop the nausea, so I opened them again.

"Bald guy, skinny, goatee." I looked across the rest area's dark parking lot. The station was a few paces away, but between us was a sea of black tar threatening to drown me.

"You can wait here and I can go look for him." Liam held onto my arm, his voice carried a note of concern.

"No. Let's just get there." I began to step forward and he followed beside me, not letting go of my arm.

Sliding glass doors swooshed open as we approached the building and a blast of cold air smacked my face and I shivered. Liam's eyes scanned the small building as he led me to a bench beside travel pamphlets and sat me down. I closed my eyes again, demanding the room to stop spinning.

"Duo?" Liam nudged my shoulder and I opened my eyes to see why he sounded concerned. A young man approached us, his face tight with annoyance. I sighed and Liam stepped between us as the man approached.

"Heero." I greeted him with a grin that quickly turned to a grimace as my arm throbbed.

"You know him?" Liam looked down at me. I nodded yes, assuring him that it was okay. Heero remained a few steps away, examining us. I nearly laughed. We were quite the sight. I looked half dead and Liam was sporting the black eyes I had given him.

"Duo." My name hummed from his lips and a small smile formed, mocking my current state. "You are looking well." His arms folded across his chest. Liam's hand was still holding my arm and I could feel it tighten slightly, he did not feel comfortable with Heero. He watched him with the sharp eyes and distrust of a wild dog.

"Yes. I had myself a nice little holiday. Did you miss me?" I began to stand and Liam assisted me, his eyes not leaving Heero.

"Trowa almost went on a trip, but unlike you, he managed to avoid it." My eyes widened, so I was not the only one they had targeted.

"Do we know who planned our trips yet?" Heero nodded yes, and I knew I would be fully briefed in privacy. "Where's Howard?" I asked, still surprised it was Heero picking me up.

"He contacted me through the Scientists." I nodded and took a step forward, Hereo's eyes taking in my injuries, like a machine collecting data.

"He'll need help." Liam stated as I was passed over to Heero like a bag of potatoes.

"He'll live." Heero's monotone voice replied.

"Thanks Heero. Always were a pal." I sarcastically said while rolling my eyes at him. I looked to Liam who was trying to figure out the odd relationship before him. He sighed, a sign that he was giving up.

Heero turned to lead me away, but I stopped him and looked at Liam. "Thank you." I had been saying those two words a lot. I did not want to admit it, but I knew I would not have made it without his help. He nodded, his bruised eyes studying mine.

"Take care of yourself." He emphasized the words, hoping I would heed them. Heero began to turn again, his mission had begun upon retrieving me.

"Your brother is lucky to have you." I said over our shoulders, watching Liam as Heero led me forward. "Even if you are a prick."

He grinned and saluted me as the doors swooshed open. I smiled and flicked him off, saying a proper goodbye, before turning around.

Heero guided me across the parking lot and I sighed in exhaustion.

"You okay?" He asked. I smiled, knowing the question was a show of concern. I felt honored to receive it.

"I will be." It was finally over. My life had been saved by strangers and I knew that in the near future I would rely on that to keep going. It could get lonely fighting, but it didn't have to be that way. I could feel myself letting go and slipping into unconsciousness. It felt like I had been holding my breath for days, struggling to keep it all in. Now I released it with one final sigh.

"Rest. I got you." Heero's words drifted down to me and I could feel his grip tighten around me, committing to his words. I listened to him and let go, allowing the darkness to gently wrap around me, knowing that I would be safe when I awoke.

END

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Satisfied with the ending? When I first began this story all I wanted to do was write about Duo being trapped in a trunk...the story developed a lot more then I intended. I enjoyed creating Liam's character, I hope you found him intriguing or entertaining...and I hope the last chapter didn't jump around too much. Let's face it, I could write about Liam and Duo's adventures for a long time, so I had to keep it moving. Also, I hope it is okay I didn't go into detail about the kidnappers. Had I done so, it would have developed another side story when I wanted to stay focused on Duo and his point of view.

Let me know what you thought!

It's been a fun ride (perhaps not for poor Duo).

Out!


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